


Shah-Mat

by driftinganima



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftinganima/pseuds/driftinganima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all promises are meant to be kept, especially when they are better to be broken. [General, a bit of SinJa]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shah-Mat

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Magi: Labyrinth of Magic.

Black crows littered the vast, gray sky. The rocky ground was blotted and smudged with blood, and the smell of the sea and the staleness of rust blended with the heavy air. Broken shards of spears, blades, swords, and magical items were scattered on the brown earth, their owners equally sprawled on the ground.

Among them, a man with dark-purple hair stood upright, patches ranging from dark-brown to black crawling on almost every part of his body. He was looking at the sky with eyes the color of amber. His arms hung limply on his sides, his fingers not twitching an inch.

Until.

"S-Sin..." one with ashen blond hair emerged from the shambles, and waves crashed against the walls of the cliff where they stood. "Sin..." his legs wobbled as he dragged his feet towards the man before him. "Sin..." he called once more.

Sinbad turned around, looked at the other blankly, and muttered under his ragged breath, "Ja'far..."

Ja'far did not stop from moving towards Sinbad, not until he was able to place a hand over one of the King's shoulders. He wasn't sure if he was trying to support himself to stand upright, with Sin as his pillar, or if he was even trying to accomplish anything at all. His house vessel was among the broken weapons, and although he wanted to tie Sinbad right on the spot and render him useless just like what he and the other seven generals attempted to do a few moments ago, he knew he couldn't do anything against him.

And he wouldn't.

He peered straight into Sinbad's eyes, stringing unspeakable words and reciting them like a chant in his head. He parted his lips in an attempt to speak, but they only trembled.

"Ja'far..." Sinbad called out once more, the dullness in his eyes unfading. "I'm beyond saving."

Ja'far bit his lower lip and suppressed a painful intake of air; he shook his head and said, "No, Sin. There's still a way. There's always a way."

Sinbad closed his eyes, a faint smile growing on his lips. "You don't have to do this. You need not to follow me anymore. This... is the decision I've decided to choose."

_Always remember that I will stick with you with whatever decision you make._

Seconds of silence passed.

Ja'far's shoulders hitched as he hung his head low with eyes closed. Memories peeled in front of his eyes: from the moment he thought he was the one beyond saving when Sinbad came to his rescue; when members of the eight generals continued to line in the Kingdom of Sindria and he was one of those who became the pillars of the king in raising them as responsible commanders; during those late night celebrations held in the kingdom as he reprimanded him of his irresponsible acts; when the Magi appeared and things quickly unfolded like the scrolls that he held within the kingdom's archiving rooms; from the moment he was saved, until the tables were turned and he thought he might be the one who can save him in return.

His hand slid from Sinbad's shoulder, and he muttered.

"I'm sorry, but I won't be keeping my promise anymore."

Ja'far tried to muster his remaining strength, but the meager energy that he gathered was easily wasted when Sinbad struck his nape.

The king's – former king's – adviser watched through blurry, half-slitted eyes the pair of black, powerful wings that pushed Sinbad's body from the wrecked earth and ascended him to the gray sky.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Shah-mat means "The King is Dead". Written for a drabble fest, with the prompt, “Abandonment”.


End file.
